Running Errands
by moodyaura
Summary: One-shot. Helga decides to help out a clueless Arnold on the finer points of grocery shopping.


I decided to republish the Hey Arnold one shots I had separately instead. This is one of them.

001: _"Baby, you better get out of that express lane 'cause you're all that __**and**__ a bag of chips."_

* * *

It was a normal Saturday for Helga G. Pataki as she laid stagnant on her blue blankets, somehow managing to see dreamy-eyed football heads on her ceiling as she passed the afternoon away under the influence of summer indolence. This was heaven. Just as Arnold, dressed in a white toga with feathery wings fluttering behind him, began to lower himself onto Helga's lips, her bedroom door was swung open. "Helga, baby!" The voice was a saccharine one, which could only mean one thing. Olga. Helga closed her eyes in annoyance before addressing her sister.

"Yes, Olga? What do you want? I thought I told you to knock before you come into my room," Helga said, peeved. The tall, blonde girl widened her eyes, her pretty features faltering a little as she spoke.

"Oh, baby sister, I forgot! I'm sorry!" Instantly, they brightened, and Olga went on, animated, "Mommy and Daddy are coming back from their honeymoon from Europe today, and I want to surprise them with a dinner! I have a full course meal prepared for them, with the dishes I learned from a chef in Paris." She pronounced the city with a nasally accent. Helga rolled her eyes as her sister looked dreamily into the air, sighing.

The honeymoon was fully unexpected and completely unnecessary. It was an early anniversary present from Olga, who giddily presented her parents with two first class tickets for a getaway in Europe. Bob, who was tired from managing his growing company, and Miriam who somehow, somewhat successfully got off the alcohol, thought it was the last thing they needed. "Olga, honey," Bob reasoned, "I love the present, but my company's just starting to take off, and I can't leave for a couple of weeks for a break. Can't it be later?" From a sofa, Helga mimicked the act with her hands mockingly.

"But Daddy, you're so exhausted from running the company. And Mommy, I'm sure you want a break from doing household chores. How long has it been since you two went on a trip together?" The elderly couple exchanged awkward looks with each other. Like many marriages, the ardent love they felt at the beginning had been swept away by work and age. And alcohol. The two looked hesitant, which Olga noted. "F-fine," she said shakily, turning her head to hide her teary eyes, "I'll just return the tickets. I-I don't m-m-mind." She let out a loud hiccup and sniffed.

Bob sighed, covering his eyes with his hand, as if trying to shake off a headache. "All right Olga. You're right, I do need a break. I'm stressed. I'm sure someone can take over for me," he said. Olga looked up at him, a large smile forming on her face.

"R-really, Daddy? You will? What about you, Mommy?" Helplessly, Miriam nodded. "Oh! You two will have so much fun, I promise!" Olga cried happily, pulling them both into a warm hug. "I booked the hotel and paid all your fees! It has a pool and a sauna and-" As she ranted on, the couple looked at one another and smiled. If their love for each other had faded away, their love for their daughter had not waned a bit.

"Crimey, look at them," Helga muttered, slouching into the sofa, 'They're like puppets. Only a couple of sniffs and teary eyes and they agree to whatever she says. What a bunch of baloney." Taking one more glance at the happy trio, Helga slunk out of the living room, a trace of loneliness barely marked in her eyes. It was these unfortunate sequence of events that inevitably led Olga to be her caretaker during her summer before fifth grade.

"Yeah, so?" Helga asked, raising a brow, "What about it?" Olga smiled widely, clasping her hands together. Helga thanked the Lord this was the last day she had to endure her sister's incessant "bonding" methods.

"Well, I have most of the ingredients downstairs, but I'm afraid I'm missing some. Baby sister, I was wondering you could get them for me while I make the dishes I can. It would really help on saving time," the older girl said pleadingly. What was she now, some kind of butler? Wasn't it bad enough she had to endure the shopping and sisterly acts for two whole weeks? Olga leaned in closer to Helga's face, jutting her lower lip out, eyes big. "Please, baby sis? For me?" Helga nearly gagged at the sight.

Managing to stay aloof, she waved her hand at her older sister. "Yeah, yeah, sure," she muttered.

"Thanks Helga," Olga chirped, ruffling her hair. She skipped out of the room before calling behind her, "I'll give you the grocery list in a sec!" Scowling, the blonde rolled herself out of bed and stood in front of the mirror. Thanks to her sister's so-called affectionate action, her hair was a mess.

"Crimey." Helga looked at her bangs, which collided into one another like a jumbled jig-saw puzzle. Her hair, which was left down since she had not planned on going out, was sticking out in what seemed like a half-afro. "This is going to hurt." Grabbing the comb, Helga forced it down her blonde locks, hissing as it stayed put on a bulge. "Geez, what the heck is this?" Her hands pulled the wad apart before running the comb through it again.

"Baby sis, I got the-!" Olga gasped as she stepped into the room. "What are you doing to your hair? Here, let me do it for you!" Before she could protest, Helga was somehow settled down in front of her sister's vanity, a brush tapping ominously against Olga's palm. "You always put your beautiful hair in pigtails. And you always wear the same bow too," her sister noted. Leaning forward, she opened a drawer from her vanity. "Get ready for a makeover, baby sis," Olga cooed. Helga was sure her gulp was audible.

"Crimey, how in the world did I get myself into this mess? Look at me! What was Olga thinking! I should've ran outta there as soon as I saw the hairspray. Geez, if someone sees me like this I'm doomed!" The harangue came from a blonde girl's mouth as she stormed her way through the neighborhood's supermarket. "I mean, look at me!" A door in the frozen food market was swung opened harshly. As people stared back, her appearance was thankfully, on her part, covered by the frosty door. Closing it with vehemence, she stormed off into the produce section, not noticing as her basket crashed into someone. "And then she makes me walk all the way! What kind of person is she?"

Seething, Helga picked up a stack of broccoli and shook it angrily. "Excuse me miss, do you know where the peaches are?" The stack of broccoli became forgotten as it was dropped from her hands. Quickly, Helga ducked behind a pile of produce, her blue eyes peeking at the speaker over the fruit. It was Arnold. A slow, dreamy smile began to form before she straightened. Sinking to the floor where he couldn't possibly see her, a horrified expression grew over Helga's face. It was Arnold. Arnold, her crush, the unrequited love of her life- of all the people to meet with her in this state, it had to be him! She poked her head up, and noting that he was at a distance where he couldn't see her, continued to look at him furtively.

Arnold glanced quizzically at the mound of peaches, a supermarket basket held on his arm. He picked one up, turning it around in his hand. Raising a brow, he squeezed it repeatedly between his fingers, hard enough to leave a dent. Sighing, the blonde placed the fruit into his basket, and randomly put in a few more- bruised ones, Helga thought, rolling her eyes at his foolish picks. It was apparent this was probably his first time doing this sort of thing.

She scoffed. "Arnold, that idiot, that dweeb. He doesn't even know how to pick out decent fruit." Pausing, she darted her eyes side to side. It was empty. "And yet," Whispering these words tenderly, Helga reached her hand into a pocket, where she placed her locket after Olga made her change. She trailed a finger down the glass, down the oblong face captured inside. "How I adore him," she said softly, "How his knowing eyes look earnestly into everyone's soul. How he deals patiently with the problems thrown at him that are not his own. Ohh..." Helga closed her eyes as she breathed out a sigh, holding the locket to her chest.

A silence followed after. Helga waited. She opened an eye. Still nothing. Frustrated, she turned back to where Brainy would usually be, breathing heavily like Darth Vader had specially trained him to do so. A note was taped to the stack of apples she was hiding behind. "Dear Helga," she muttered, scanning the paper, "I'm allergic to apples, but I'm watching, don't worry. Love, Brainy- what the heck?" Helga turned around quickly, half-expecting to see Brainy hiding behind the stack of tomato soup cans, waving. What she came to face with was something she had not expected.

"Helga?" It was the voice of her dreams, that haunted her with whispers night and day. It was also the voice that previously asked for peaches. "Helga, is that you?" She wanted to smack herself a good one. What was she thinking?- he was only a few aisles away, looking at his stupid fruit. But no, someone had to change their mind and come over to where she was, of all places.

Standing awkwardly post-supermarket-love-confession, (and looking for Brainy), Helga stood frozen in place. "A-Arnold," she stuttered from surprise. Get it together Helga ol' girl, she chided, don't let him see you like this. She narrowed her eyes and scowled, taking up her usual look. "No, football head, it's the Queen of England. Crimey, what do you think?" she snapped, throwing her arms up in the air. They felt heavier for some reason. A sense of dread took over Helga as her eyes trailed slowly up to hands, hoping that she wasn't holding what she thought she was in them. Arnold followed her gaze, catching sight of the locket and paper before her.

The heart shape didn't escape his notice, and he caught glimpse of blond hair and a blue shirt before it was shoved into Helga's pockets. "Hey, what as that?" he asked curiously. A small smile formed on his face, his gaze playful. "Your crush?" A scarlet blush rose gradually on Helga's face.

"N-n-no!" She spluttered. That was way to many stutters for a Pataki. "It's none of your business, football head!" While her voice was harsh, the still red face told otherwise on what was the truth.

The smile grew on his face. "So," he said slowly, raising a brow, "Blond hair, huh?" Helga conjured up a thousand phrases she wanted to say to him at this point, most of them too vulgar for a girl her age to know.

"I-you-it's not-you don't-" She struggled to keep her pride as she stammered in embarrassment. Anger sparked in her as Arnold laughed.

"It's okay, Helga. I won't tell. We all have our secrets." He smiled lightly at her, and her face softened for a moment before resuming to its glare. The situation was more mortifying than she could bear. Arnold couldn't even realize how close he was to finding out the truth, Helga mused. She had to be more careful. "So, who is he?" he asked casually.

The blonde girl glowered at him. "I told you, Arnold-o, it's none of your business. And besides," she thought quickly to divert him, "What are _you _doing here, football head?"

Rather thank being insulted by the question, as she intended him to be, Arnold grew amused. "It's a grocery store, Helga. I'm grocery shopping."

"Yeah, well," she raked for mind for a good comeback, "Why don't you go shopping somewhere else then? Your football head germs are making all the apples rot." He shrugged lightly at her before turning around.

"Whatever you say, Helga." Behind him, Helga sagged in relief. Arnold turned his head back, glancing at her with a small smile. "Oh, by the way," he said over his shoulder, "You look nice today." He turned his attention back to the tomatoes which were across from where she was. It took all of Helga's willpower not to scream out for joy right then and there. His words left her speechless, as she turned around, trying to cover the silly grin on her face with her hand. She stole looks at the blond boy, who was pondering over the tomatoes in perplexity.

"Hey, football head," she called as he placed an overly ripe one in his basket, "That one's no good, you dweeb." She could feel her knees shake the slightest as she walked over to him. "They can't be that soft." She reached out and grabbed one from the pile- a good one, she might add, and tossed it into his basket.

He looked surprised. "Are you talking to me?" Arnold asked. After her biting words, he didn't expect her to come talk to him. Helga rolled her eyes.

"No! I'm talking to the tomatoes. Crimey, what do you think?" Helga snapped. Taking another tomato from the pile, she held it up to his face, pressing it gently between her fingers. "Tomatoes shouldn't be too soft, or else they're overripe. If they're too hard, then they're not ripe yet, got it?" She pushed it into his hand. He mimicked her action, nodding lightly to himself, and put it with his other groceries. A small smile graced his features.

"Thanks Helga." A light blush crossed his face. "I'm not so good at this," he admitted in embarrassment. Of all the people to give him help on this, it was the school bully. Who, for some reason, was so much more experienced than he was. In the back of his mind, Arnold pondered on the cause of this.

Helga scoffed at his words. "You got that right, bucko. So how'd you land with this job, anyway?" She tossed in one more of the red fruit/vegetable/whatever the heck it is into his cart. Arnold's hands tightened the hold on his basket, his expression a tad bit to solemn for a personality like his. It didn't pass Helga's notice, even if he was looking down at the floor.

He began softly, "Grandma hasn't been feeling too well. She's stuck in bed sick, so I offered to go grocery shopping for her. It was the least I could do." He sighed a bit, short but sad. It was as if Helga's heart had melted at the sight of the dejected boy in front of her. She reached out a hand to place it on his shoulder, but quickly pulled it back. If anything, she wanted to pull him into a hug and comfort him, but she had a reputation to maintain. Even if the love of her life was near to shambles in front of her.

"I'm-" Helga gulped, tightening her hand behind her back. _Restrain yourself_, she thought, _You have to be careful. _"I'm sorry Arnold. I hope she feels better," she finished sincerely. Arnold lifted his blond head to meet her gaze. She shifted in discomfort under his searching eyes.

"Why do you do that?" he asked in frustration. "I know you're not a bully. You've shown me now, so why put up the fake face?" Helga stiffened. She wanted to pull her hair out at his oblivious nature. You, she wanted to scream, you're the reason why! If it weren't for your stupid umbrella, I wouldn't have had to maintain this!

When she spoke her voice was sharp. "I don't know what you're talking about." Seeing the look of finality on her face, Arnold sighed, sagging his shoulders in surrender. Although he couldn't understand Helga's need for her split-personality, he knew that she couldn't be pushed for answers at the moment. He would have to wait another day to try and solve the confusing puzzle that was Helga G. Pataki.

"Never mind, then," he muttered. "I'll see you around, Helga." Her face fell as he turned to leave. Helga cursed her cold words for driving him away. She searched her mind for an excuse to make him stay. Instantly, her frantic eyes caught sight of the grocery basket hanging on his arm.

"Hey football head!" she called. Arnold turned, a curious expression on his face. "Your peaches are bruised!" It took him a moment to realize what she was talking about. And when he did, an audible groan escaped his lips, much to her satisfaction.

He looked at her uneasily. "Helga, do you think you can help me with my groceries?" His voice was shy. Suppressing a very smug grin, Helga looked down at her nails as if she were considering his offer. As a master of nonchalance, she gazed at him with boredom, ignoring the loud thud in her ears as her heart skipped five hundred beats.

Shrugging, Helga spoke, "I've got nothing better to do." She saw Arnold sigh in relief. Just to irk him, she added, "And I feel bad for whoever has to use your groceries to make dinner." The blond chose to ignore her last comment, giving her a half-lidded stare of annoyance. As he showed her the next ingredient on his list, the two of them already arguing over where the canned goods were, Helga felt a funny tingle run up her body as she felt Arnold trying to keep up with her pace in adamant determination. Breaking out into a run, she heard herself laugh as they raced to Aisle 5 together. "Hey Arnold-o!" she called to him, "How much do you wanna bet they're in Aisle 3?" Arnold grinned as he ran next to her.

"You wish, Helga!" he cried, before sprinting ahead of her. Helga smiled to herself as she sped up. Now this was worth coming for.

"Hey football head, wait up!"


End file.
